


Fireworks

by InsaneTrollLogic



Series: CW Impulse Fic [6]
Category: Impulse (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fireworks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneTrollLogic/pseuds/InsaneTrollLogic
Summary: Central City does a firework display to start the New Year. Bart's not expecting it and Barry has to deal with a panicking pre-teen speedster.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I missed New Year's by almost two weeks.  
> 2\. Er... my Bart characterization is becoming a bit of a mish-mash of Impulse comics, the Young Justice cartoon and Teen Titans. Whoops?

For the most part, Bart Allen only sleeps when he’s managed to run himself to exhaustion. Barry usually has to guard the door to make sure the kid’s not sneaking out of their apartment. Barry had expected it to be twenty times worse on New Year’s Eve, but the kid barely seems aware of the holiday, content to tuck himself into Barry’s side as the two of them marathon cartoons. Barry had missed the festivities last year because of his coma and, since the lightning, going out to celebrate a holiday was less fun due to his impossibly high alcohol tolerance. He’d half thought he might wind up on duty as the Flash, but the city seemed content to celebrate without him.

So Bart and Barry sit on the couch, eating their way through several bags of chips and the rest of Joe’s Christmas cookies. Barry has to explain some of the jokes since Bart’s not great at pop culture, but the kid takes some delight in pointing out the ways Futurama differs from the actual future.

Bart falls asleep well before midnight, nestled into Barry’s side, his breath warm against Barry’s shoulder.

It’s… nice. Familiar. It reminds Barry of Christmas Eve spend staking out the tree with Iris in an attempt to catch Santa in the act. Bart on the other hand had grilled Barry for ten minutes about If Santa Claus was a speedster and after watching Barry flounder concluded that the whole thing was a falsehood. He’d liked the Christmas gifts though, spending hours spinning a Rubik’s cube until the joints started to melt from the speed.

Cisco had suggested taking Bart out to see the downtown celebration, but Barry had been wary of the Flash needing an appearance and unwilling to leave Bart alone in a crowd. He likes this better, a lazy night with his son asleep at his side.

Barry’s not expecting the kid to wake up when the fireworks start, screaming.

“Whoa,” Barry says. “Bart! Calm down.”

Bart elbows him in the gut with enough force to bruise, twists himself out of Barry’s grip and vibrates through the wall.

Barry’s on his feet a second later about to flash into his costume when Bart careens back into the room. His face is set, his eyes wide and frightened. “Dad,we’vegottogorightnow.”

He tugs on Barry’s hand. Barry forces his own adrenaline down. “Why?”

“Ijustchecked. Thesky’sonfire. Weneedtogo.”

There’s another series of crashes outside and Bart flinches with each blast. In the distance Barry can hear shouting, but this far removed from the celebrations, it’s hard to tell the tone of the cries. “It’s New Year’s, kid.”

“Thesky’s _onfire_. It’sjustlike—“ Bart looks away, his face red with embarrassment. “Oh. Wecan’thidebecauseyouhavetogobeahero,right?”

“I don’t have to do anything but hang out here with you.” Barry put a hand on either of Bart’s shoulders, his gut twisting. “Bart…did you not celebrate New Year’s in the future?”

“Doesn’tlooklikecelebration,” Bart mumbles. “Skyonlylookslikethatwhensomethingbadhappens.”

Barry closes his eyes, crouching down to stand on Bart’s level. None of them had pressed the kid about the world he came from, heeding Wells’s warnings about the dangers of future knowledge even from an alternate timeline.

Still, the kid had ran to the past with no intent of ever returning. He talks almost constantly, about school, about the VR where he grew up, but he never talks about his real dad.

Barry has a strong suspicion that Bart had never met the man.  

Bart is practically vibrating in front of him and Barry consciously fights down his own anxiety to summon a smile to his face. “You don’t have to be scared,” he says.

Bart side-eyes him hard.

Barry keeps his voice light and unworried. “We call them fireworks. How about you and me go check them out?”

“Theysoundlikebombs.”

Bart knows what bombs sound like. The kid spent half his life in a virtual reality and he still knows what bombs sound like. “They’re not bombs,” Barry says.

“I’msupposedtorunwhenIhearthatsound.”

“You don’t need to run,” Barry says. “I’ll keep you safe.”

The kid stares at him with those big golden eyes. “Promise?”

“When have I ever lied to you?” Barry croaks. “Tell you what, how about you put on your costume and we can go check it out together?”

On a normal day, Barry wouldn’t dream of taking the kid for a spin as Impulse, but the way the offer melts the panic from Bart’s face means he can’t regret it. He’s in costume a second later, goggles dangling from his neck. Barry flashes into his own costume and says, “Top of the Mercury Labs building. I’ll race you.”

Bart doesn’t break before him, but as soon as Barry leaves he’s tight on his heels. Barry makes sure to keep his speed constant, well within Bart’s own abilities, but Bart doesn’t make a bid to pass him, just stays at arm’s length, close enough to touch.

They shoot up the side of the Mercury Labs building, leaving twin trains of lighting in their wake. Luckily, no one’s watching for the Flash tonight, instead focusing on the sky as the dazzling display of fireworks cuts through the darkness. Barry stops at the top of the building, looping an arm over Bart’s shoulder and spinning them in the right direction to watch.

“Fireworks,” Barry explains. “We set them off when there’s something to celebrate.”

“Survivingthewholeyear,” Bart says. “AuntDawnusedtosaythat.”

“Sounds like she had the right idea,” Barry answers. “But in this century we’re a little loud about it. That okay?”

Bart nods, nestling farther into Barry’s side. He still flinches with every burst, but his eyes track the colors with interest, the tension slowly leaking out of his frame. Barry has a million questions he should ask—questions he should have asked months ago—but his brain is stuck on the revised definition for his kid.

Not a traveler from the future, a _refugee_.

“Future wasn’t so great, huh?” Barry asks.

Bart looks up at him, the fireworks reflecting off his goggles. His brows furrows, his lips turning down. It’s as much thought as Barry’s seen him put into anything since he got here. When he answers, the words are deliberate. “It’s better here.”

No mention of Bart’s mother, his father, the older Iris or even the man named Wally West that Bart had been so desperate to find when he first ran to the past. Barry wonders if any of them were looking for Bart in the future. “Wish we could let your family know you were okay.”

Bart either doesn’t hear him or is playing deaf, his attention drifting to the spectacle of the firework’s finale, the distant booms more a continuous rumble than a barrage. Barry lets it go and reaches up to ruffle the kid’s hair. It’s hard to think of other people in the distant future being Bart’s family. As far as Barry’s concerned, Bart’s family is right here.


End file.
